I photographed this great, old Willow, growing at the pond’s edge, in early March, 2011. Winter was ending. Spring was trying to break through. A few more weeks and there would be green buds on every branch. But that day, the sun appeared all too sinister, glowing balefully through the winter haze that masked its immense heat and energy. I was so affected by this scene, that I wrote what I call a "margin poem," to memorialize it.

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